


it's what my heart just yearns to say

by chasing_the_sterek



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Geralt gets injured but I don't even describe the fight, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things, M/M, Slice of Life, he's just laying in camp waiting to heal asgdhjhaslf, i guess?, there's angst only in that I stopped before writing a scene that would have physically killed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_the_sterek/pseuds/chasing_the_sterek
Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear."What," he says.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 472





	it's what my heart just yearns to say

**Author's Note:**

> Entering this fandom has not helped convince my computer I don't speak Polish.

"If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years. 

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear. 

"What," he says.

"Come on, Geralt," Jaskier coaxes. That bit isn't new. "Play along. One blessing, right now, what would you want?"

Geralt has spent the evening fighting drowners. It's not unusual to find some out in the middle of nowhere, far from any towns, but it is more uncommon to find so many. Jaskier hasn't offered any theories, but he's been singing about an entire party drowning in a storm all evening, which is opinion enough.

He'd had to wade in after several, cowering in the middle of the lake, and he was soaked down to his smallclothes.

"Dry socks," he grunts, definitely not hoping for a laugh.

What he gets is much better: Jaskier's face lights up and he holds a hand out, enthusiastic. "I can do that."

Geralt tries not to feel like he's looking at the sun coming out. Maybe if he just sits there, Jaskier will give in and he'll be able to breathe properly again.

"Come on," Jaskier repeats instead of giving up. "Putting your bare feet on pine needles for five measly minutes won't kill you."

Geralt tugs his socks off and flings them over the fire. They don't even land on Jaskier's face.

Damn feelings. 

///

It becomes a thing. On the long, winter evenings, when they're waiting for the fire to thaw out enough ground to place their bedrolls, or when they're on a particularly long stretch of road, Jaskier will turn to him and say, _one blessing._

Geralt's answer varies. An easy hunt. A bath in the next town. The dirty cloth from his bags, so he can clean the guts off his sword.

They get more open the longer they travel together.

It's a dark night with no moon and they've been run out of their lodgings. Jaskier offers, "If life could give you one blessing," into the dark, cautious but determined.

Geralt keeps looking forwards. They haven't had a proper bed in over a week. It would be easy to wish for.

But he says, "I wish children weren't so scared of me," quiet and vulnerable into the dark. He's not good with words, but Jaskier is a trusted friend and he will understand this. _Here is a piece of me. Be careful with it._

He hates being used as a horror story to keep children in line. It's inevitable, an easy figurehead for captial-c Consequences, but it still feels awful.

He doesn't know what he expects Jaskier to do about it that he's not already doing.

He says it anyway. 

///

It's a warm summer night and Geralt is staring, panting, up at the bright stars. A monster had got a lucky hit in, tonight: a large slash across his stomach, spilling blood. He's downed the necessary potions, and now it's just a matter of time.

"If life could give you one blessing," Jaskier says.

Geralt turns his head to look at him. There's a feigned cheer to his face, but his body is all angled towards Geralt - worry, then. An odd thing for a Witcher to have.

"What about you," Geralt says, feeling odd. He can't think of anything he'd want other than Jaskier's fingers in his hair, giving him something nicer to focus on than his insides knitting themselves back together. "If life could give _you_ one blessing."

"Oh." Jaskier's eyes widen, surprised. "Well, um."

He casts around the camp for inspiration. It's mostly show; he's weighing up something in his head, Geralt can see it.

"For you to heal well," he says eventually. It lilts up at the end like he's not sure if he's allowed to risk asking for it.

Question or not, it pierces through Geralt's chest and lances him straight in the heart.

"Ow," he says without thinking.

Jaskier is hovering over him in a heartbeat. "Oh, shit. Did I make it worse? I'm so bad at wishes, Geralt, the both of us together should be _criminal_ \- remember the djinn? Can you imagine if either one of us asked for world peace, the world would just descend into hell - are you laughing? This is so much worse than I thought it was."

Geralt reaches up and catches Jaskier by the wrist. "It's fine," he says. "I'm fine. Wish worked."

"Evidently not how I _wanted_ it to!"

"Hmm."

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm not."

"Stop being so awful at trying not to laugh then," Jaskier retorts, thwacking him lightly on the arm. "Some Witcher you are; I can see right through you."

"If that's true," Geralt murmurs, unable to resist, "then I took the wrong potions."

Jaskier's head pops back into view. His mouth is open again, but this time the light in his eyes is from humour and delight instead of burning worry.

"Was that a _joke?"_ he demands.

"No," Geralt tries.

"It was!"

"No, it wasn't."

"I can't believe you give off such an air of," Jaskier drops his voice and adopts a ridiculously surly expression - _"Oh, I'm a big bad Witcher and I don't need anybody, not even my very very good friend Jaskier,_ and then you make such truly awful jokes."

Geralt doesn't even know where to start addressing the impression of him, so he just says, "It wasn't awful."

"Ah-ha," Jaskier says, triumphant, "so you admit that it was a joke, then?"

Geralt hates him.

"I've decided on my wish," he grumbles.

"All wishes for me to go away, fuck off, or any such variants are banned," Jaskier sing-songs.

Ugh.

He stares up at the stars and tries not to smile. Jaskier starts recounting the story of his grand victory to Roach, as though she wasn't there the entire time, and Geralt watches the side of his face as he talks and loves him, silently, quieter than any joke he's ever told.

Neither of them will realise until later that Geralt never quite let go of Jaskier; his grip just slipped down, natural as breathing, until they were holding hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this was okay! I enjoyed writing it, but I'm a bit out of it right now so idk how readable it is lmao

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [There's a Monster at The End of This Castle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691928) by [americanjedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanjedi/pseuds/americanjedi)




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